Lunge, hike, lunge, hike.

With three of my four daughters playing soccer, my weekends tend to get a bit hectic. This past weekend, though, was accompanied by heavy rain and thunderstorms. In Portland we play through any amount of rain but the first sign of lighting has everyone running like scared little rabbits. Gretchen’s game was cancelled after 15 minutes of play following two flashes of lighting. Her games last an hour and a half and since this week’s game began at 12:30, I dropped her off in search of lunch and missed both the thunder and the lighting, returning just in time to see her scrambling off the field. Ordinarily I enjoy her games but was happy this week when I didn’t even have to step out of my car in to the pouring rain.

Leah’s game was scheduled for 1:30 and was also cancelled, leaving Margaret to play the only game this week, which she endured through the absolute worst weather of the day. Heavy rain, high winds and dropping temperatures combined to make it nearly unbearable. Wrapped in three coats and boots, I cheered from the sidelines alongside her coach while the team riding the bench shivered beneath an easy-up tent.

Ordinarily the parents gather to form a cheering section on the opposite side of the field congregating on cheap folding camp chairs. This week, though, I wanted to give Margaret a little extra support and stayed on the team side of the field. Pep talks, shouting and whistling, you know, the usual sideline stuff expected from parents, which, for me, is the kind of behavior that makes me somewhat uncomfortable.

And with good reason, too. A few weeks ago Linda and I were at one of Gretchen’s games where we visited with our friend Mary on the sideline. The day began with rain but turned sunny a few hours before the game, which can have an effect on people here in Oregon. For Linda, Mary, and me it had the effect of us peeling back our coats and leaving our umbrellas at home. Footloose and fancy free, one might say, which left us laughing casually when Mary’s little boy ate berries off some unknown shrub. “Kids,” she said, “They just want to put everything they find in their mouths,” and then we laughed a little bit more.

While the effect from this brief respite from the rain had me in a t-shirt, it was nothing compared to its effect on one of the other parents. One of the fathers, whom I’ll call Frank, was dressed in a white mesh running shirt with matching white and blue running shoes. Frank also wore a pair of thin grey warm-up pants that stretched tight as he bent to touch his toes. He was facing away from us and while I wouldn’t consider him fat, no one would mistake him for being fit either. Each bend seemed to reveal more and more as the fabric stretched taught against his skin. Following the toe touching he turned to face us then proceeded to hike his pants up uncomfortably high, which, apparently, was in preparation for his next routine - deep lunges. This routine went on for several minutes, lunge, hike, lunge, hike and with each hike he’d inch the elastic waistband higher than the previous time all the time facing us for his little performance. It was uncomfortable so we laughed a bit more.

So, as I stood in the freezing rain this past Saturday, cheering for Margaret a bit louder than usual I thought, “at least I’m standing upright covered in many, many protective layers.”